The Brightest Witch of Her Age
by Smeagolia
Summary: "To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong." –Joseph Chilton Pearce. Hermione Granger did not rise to the top without hard work and losing the fear of what others thought.


**A/N: Written for teddylupin-snape's inspirational quote competition. I do not own Harry Potter or the riddle. Please read and review. Enjoy!  
**

_**"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong." –Joseph Chilton Pearce**_

Rita Skeeter held her quill to the parchment. "Hermione Weasley, the brightest which of this age, please, won't you tell me how you came to be so brilliant?" Hermione twisted a strand of hair around her finger. The war was _years_ ago but people could not stop buzzing about Hermione and her best friends Harry and Ron.

"Well," Hermione started after much thought. "To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong." She said cryptically. Rita Skeeter seemed a bit taken aback. "Care to elaborate darling?"

Hermione smiled and got up from her seat. "No, I'd rather let your readers chew on that for a while, thank you." She said politely and promptly left the room.

**Second Grade Art Class**

The art teacher, Ms. Franz, held up a copy of a painting for her class to see. "Now class, tell me what it looks like this lady is looking at." The class of second graders, including a certain frizzy haired little girl, scrutinized the painting.

The painting was in fact of a woman looking at dust bunnies, which was very silly, really. But if you looked close enough, you could see that the dust bunnies seemed to form a picture of man, which also seemed a little silly.

A boy named Ned raised his hand tentatively and the teacher nodded to him to speak. "Its of a lady looking a scratches on her floor." The class giggled and the boy blushed violently, sinking low in his seat.

Another boy slouched low in his seat, but not because of embarrassment, the boy thought of school as the world's most effective torture device, and only came to school to serve his time. He looked lazily at the painting. _Huh,_ he thought to himself,_ looks a little like a man's face on the floor or something._ This was extremely close to the reality, but the boy stuck to his usual plan and kept quiet.

A little girl saw in the painting a man's face too, but didn't dare say it. _Silly,_ she scolded herself, _there is no man's face in there! And if I said it, they would all laugh at me._

A second girl with large front teeth and the name, Hermione Granger on the tag of her lunch box raised her hand confidently in the air. "Ms. Franz, it looks like a lady looking at dust in the face of man!" The class laughed, including the people who thought of that themselves. Hermione stuck her nose in the air and blinked back the tears of embarrassment in her eyes.

"Ms. Granger! That is correct!" The teacher cried, pleased someone got it right. Hermione grinned proudly, while the people who had kept silent mentally kicked themselves for not speaking up.

**Fourth Grade Play Tryouts**

"Hermione Granger!" The hunched woman doing auditions called out. Hermione stepped up from her seat and climbed up to the stage, terribly aware of the many eyes following her. The elderly woman nodded to her to begin. Hermione cleared her throat and began.

"Help! Please, someone help me! My sheep, they're missing! I – " The woman held up her hand for Hermione to stop. The woman stood up, holding a script in her hand.

"Help me! Please help me, someone! My sheep have gone missing!" She cried with feeling. The woman turned to Hermione. "That is how it is said." The woman raised an eyebrow, expecting Hermione to trudge off.

"May I try again, ma'am?" Hermione asked politely. The woman, taken aback, nodded. Some of the students waiting their turn seemed impressed too, that Hermione could speak up and ask for another turn, even under the teacher's accusing gaze.

"Help me! Please help me, someone! My sheep have gone missing!" Hermione yelled, her voice swelling with panic. Someone who didn't know what was going on could have easily heard her and thought she was really a shepard in distress.

_ Three days later_

"I have come to my decision!" The same elderly woman announced. "The person with the pleasure of the lead part in this year's play will be Hermione Granger!"

** Summer Debate Camp**

Hermione sat across the table from William Mink, last year's champion. They weren't even given a prompt for a debate yet, but they had already found something to argue about.

William, who loved to pick a verbal fight, had proclaimed that his method for debating was better than Hermione's. "It's just more practical! I can state your points in a way that insures victory!" He had ranted.

Hermione pursed her lips. "My method gives a more detailed description of each of the main points!" She said. William chuckled.

"But," He said, "With my method, that's not even needed! The point is to have the best argument and get the public to take your side with the least. Your method has too much unnecessary description." William looked to Hermione, waiting for her next protest.

Hermione thought about what to say hard. Was William right? Could she do more with less? She turned back to William. "I think you're right, Will, my method is too wordy. I admit defeat. Thank you for the tips."

** Hogwarts, Third Year**

School had just begun, and Hermione and her two best friends Harry and Ron took their usual seats at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. There was no food yet on their plates, and Dumbledore went up to the podium to make a speech before breakfast began.

"I would just like to once again congratulate the winners of the last Quidditch game before we eat, a wonderful victory, Gryffindor!' Dumbledore laughed and waved his wand. Shimmering letters appeared in the air. "Congrates Gryffindor!" They read.

Ron grinned, remembering their win that afternoon. He glanced back at the words. _Huh, _he thought, _I always thought congrats was spelt with no 'e' before the 's'. _He shrugged mentally. _It's Dumbledore. He wouldn't spell it wrong. Must be me._

Luna noticed it too, but didn't say anything, just came to the conclusion that the wimpsies must be extremely mischievous today, and were messing with her. She shook the thought off and turned back to Dumbledore.

Hermione frowned at the sign. She raised her hand as high as she could. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Hermione Granger?" He called to her.

Hermione stood up straighter. "You have misspelled 'congrats'. There is no 'e' sir." Her cheeks reddened when she noticed everyone looking at her smugly, expecting Albus Dumbledore to finally tell Hermione she'd been wrong for once.

Dumbledore looked up at his spell and flat out laughed. "Well, well. It seems Miss Hermione Granger has caught my mistake. And I expect the rest of you accepted it because I'm the great Dumbledore? If it wasn't for Hermione we probably would have all gone off spelling congrats with an 'e'!"

Hermione smiled proudly.

**A Year After the War, Egypt**

Hermione sucked in her breath nervously as she edged her way into the dark tomb, wand out in front of her. She and Ron had gone to visit Charlie in Egypt, and Hermione had found some famous curse-breakers willing to pay her to help them break a curse over a newly discovered mummy's tomb. No one had yet succeeded, but the other wizards were confidant Hermione would be the perfect witch for the job.

Hermione wasn't sure she was up to it though. There had been rumors of shrieks and howls echoing through the tomb at night, and some wizards who went in the try his luck at breaking the spell never came out.

_Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. _She scolded herself. _You were one of the Golden Trio! You helped stop Lord Voldemort! You can break a silly curse. _She lit the end of her wand and continued warily into the gloom. After a while she came to a stonewall covered in ruins.

With a cringe and a shudder Hermione noticed a burnt wand on the ground, along with signs of a struggle. But after a quick study of the ruins, Hermione found that the poor wizard or witch who had failed had probably made a rookie mistake. Hermione chanted a verse and the wall slid aside.

She continued carefully through until she came to the skeleton of an enormous creature, collecting dust on the ground. Hermione sighed with relief. Someone else had made it far enough to slay this beast at least. Hermione chewed her lip, fear holding her in a vise like grasp.

Hermione continued on her toes, ready to turn and flee at the last second if needed. Soon she saw up ahead an old vase covered with ruins sitting innocently to the side of the tunnel. Most people would have walked past without another thought, but Hermione went to investigate.

Hermione knelt down by the vase, squinting to see the miniscule letters. "AHHH!" She cried in fear and surprise when green fire suddenly erupted from the top of the vase, along with a roar that sounded as loud as a canon shot in the silence. Hermione stood back, eyes wide and breathing heavily. She bit back a scream when a booming voice echoed through the tunnel, seeming to come from everywhere.

"You have gotten this far. If you are one of entry, you will know this riddle. If you do not belong here, you will die. The riddle is:

_You are in a cement room where magic does not work. There are no ways out except for two identical doors. One door leads to life. One door leads to death. You do not know which door leads where."_

Hermione gasped as while the vase spoke, the riddle came to life. Hermione's vision blurred and when it cleared, she was in a room of concrete with no exits, but two doors.

"_Two identical men guard the doors. One man speaks only lies, the other, only truths. You do not know which man is which."_

The vase continued, and two men appeared in front of the doors.

_ "You may ask one question to one of the men. What question do you ask, and which door do you enter?"_

The fire in the vase sputtered out and the vase faded away, leaving Hermione in the room with only two doors and two men. Hermione went to pacing the length of the small dim room. She had one question. She could ask it to on of the guards. Then she goes through one of the doors. It was life or death. Where would she end up?

Hermione bit her tongue without thinking, drawing blood. _Come on, think Hermione, think!_ She pushed herself. She leaned against the wall and slid down to the ground. Hermione closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

Hermione gasped and leaped up, the answer had hit her like a slap in the face. Grinning, she strode over to a random guard and opened her mouth to speak. Then, she stopped. Was her answer wrong? If it was, she would die. She would be Hermione, the brightest wizard of her age, part of the Golden Trio, helped defeat Voldemort, but killed by a silly riddle. She would never see Ron or Harry or Ginny or her parents ever again. This could be the end.

She shook her head and gave her a little pinch in the arm. _Don't doubt yourself now, Hermione._ She can't be afraid. She cannot be afraid to be wrong. Never.

Hermione stood straight and raised her chin. If she were to die, she would die confident. "If I were to ask the other guard which door led to life, what would he say?" Hermione inquired.

The guard answered robotically, staring straight ahead. "He would tell you that the door behind me leads to life." Hermione smiled and stalked into the behind the other door, the opposite one the guard said led to life.

Hermione entered the door and lived to tell the tale. She was able to break the curse of the tomb, making it safe for tourists.

* * *

Hermione Granger, brightest wizard of her age, never afraid to be wrong.


End file.
